My Pet
by P.A.W.07
Summary: He makes good to his threats … that's why Megatron was a leader. Yah, the Allspark along with his brother might have been destroyed, but at least he didn't leave the planet without one little trophy. 2007 movieverse. One-shot.


My Pet summary: He makes good to his threats … that's why Megatron was a leader. Yah, the Allspark along with his brother might have been destroyed, but at least he didn't leave the planet without one little trophy. [2007 movieverse]

Disclaimer:If only, if only, the plot bunny sings.

Rating: Mature … for violence and sexual themes.

XXX

I watch the birds

I watch the birds

Never do I touch them

They seem so free

Seem so far

I can only watch them

---

Slowly, the sound of metallic feet came down the halls. The form was small compared to others of his species; in fact, the mech was small even compared to most minibots, but Skyfire still felt his spark wither with hate at the small Decepticon's form. Well, technically Skyfire didn't know if the being he was presently watching was indeed a Deception because he didn't have a true symbol on him, but he was still a loyalist being that he was on the ship and not in cage. He just had to be with the way he'd slum into the holding cells and just stare at them as if he were an intrigued child staring at a broken beast in a concrete-lined zoo. This small mech had been doing it for a while now. He would creep in, and then stand before one of the cells, wrapping his thin fingers around the bars, just peering in at the inhabitants of the forced imprisonment. At first, everyone just found it annoying and were expecting a string of insults to slowly escape the tiny, little fragger.

But nothing ever did. The small Decepticon was silent. Not even a growl or a chuckle at their containment escaped his thin lips. In fact, Skyfire was sure that the small mech was sad, depressed even, with the strange way he observed the Autobots. It soon became normality to Skyfire and his team to have the silent visitor there. Watching them … then one day, tired of the never ending cycle in its horrific slideshow of dull lights and sniffling whimpers, Skyfire tried to talk to the observer of their anguish. It was of little surprise that the daily watchman said nothing.

Instead … he opened the cell doors.

…

Sam couldn't look any of them in the optic once they were all out of their cells. For a moment, he just stood there, metallic fingers hovering above the keypad, which had opened the cells with a silent dying sound. He was trying to listen for the sound of wings … wings which distinctively sounded like the feathered appendages of a freed flock as they would thrust themselves up into the sky and away from here … away from this hell … away from him. All he heard was the stir of scurrying feet as the newly released Autobot team set up a perimeter in the brig of the Decepticon ship. True, it was not a soft drowning sound like fluttering fowl, but it would do. This sound would do.

Yet as fate's cruel corrections of short lived happiness's, his_ batting wings_ were interrupted by a cry of blistering agony. Sam didn't have to look up to witness whom it was that was calling out … he knew who it was. Despite himself, regardless of his mind's whispers not to look, Sam's optics tilted just enough as he watched red hands nearly clawed into the team's medic as the healer entered his cell; the patient crying out for his medic to do something, anything, to make it stop. Sam's optic's shifted back to the control panel and its soft red glow as he tried to recapture the sound of freed birds. He did not want to look in the crippled mech's direction. He did not need to be reminded. He didn't need to evoke the memory of that red Autobot's optics as he was dragged off to Mixmaster's lab time and time again; another test specimen for spark mitosis.

A soft ache slammed itself against his SHU casing in saddened horror at the recollection. It seemed that he would be taking up that position once again as Mixmaster's resident lab rat for letting his present one go. He would not complain though … he deserved the pain and the agony after what he had done.

… He deserved this fate and all its shivering miseries.

Soon, the patter of metallic feet and soft whispers of Cybertronian went silent, the flapping of those wings now dead for the birds were watching him in wonderment, staring at the one bird still in the cage. It was no bolt out of the blue when Sam felt a hand land on his shoulder, heavy thick fingers revealing themselves at the edge of his vision. The Halfling couldn't help but cringe away slightly to brace for impact. It had not been an odd occurrence to be punched or something of the crippling nature when he released captives. Yet, there were no jerky movements or demanding tones which usually came before a punch to the face. Instead, the tug on his shoulders was light and inviting, a surprising aspect of such large hands. Worry pressed to the bottom of his CPU, but Sam still complied; he was too small not too, yet he still didn't have the guts to look the owner of those large hands in the optics.

He had personally promised himself, cringing in his makeshift sorrows, that he'd never gaze upward into the optics of such heavenly beings. The caged boy didn't want to see their pitying look, but mostly he didn't yearn for them to be dirtied by the sight of him. He was filthy in so many ways. It would be cruel to sully these Autobot's wings with a caged bird's song.

A soft whispering soon fell from the lumbering individual who was holding Sam by the shoulders. The Halfling still refused to look up, because he already knew what the mech was asking; he needed not to play a game of charades. The large flier was probably asking "why" and "is this a trap" or the ever more popular "where's the exit"? Sadly, Sam had no voice to answer. It wasn't that he now bared an affliction like his yellow guardian had endured, it was just that his 'kindly caretaker' – Megatron - had prohibited anyone from teaching the pet any tricks. Tricks like Cybertronian. One did not want their pet knowing too much so said pet could escape or communicate, now would they? The situation was not without hope. A few mechs knew English and luckily – or unluckily depending on the attitude – the ever backstabbing Starscream was one of them. The Second in Command was always one to rebel so Sam knew a little Cybertronian; not enough to be of any use, but enough to say, "Exit."

Sam then proceeded to point towards the left, where down the hall and in the shadows, was a small room at the end of the corridor. It once had been the harbor of escaped pods. Now it was just an empty room with a port into the void that was space. Everyone thought the door had been welded shut, and it had been until the first time Autobots had been brought onboard the Nemesis. Sam watched that group suffer for a human earth month until he figured out how to help them, and he had helped them … only to stay behind. He had decided to stay behind and save the Autobots he could, even if that meant a millennium of suffering and degradation for him. It was the least he could do after what he had done … after taking the life of their leader.

He had slammed the Allspark into Optimus's chest.

Skyfire shook the small Deception's shoulder, gently trying to get him to speak more than that simple word. Primus, any reaction besides the direction he just gave would have been great. The Deception wouldn't even answer him when he asked his designation. The white Autobot sighed and threw a look behind him to observe his men. The perimeter had been set up, and surprisingly, none of the mechs before him looked panicked. That was odd. All of them were unarmed so if they spotted even one Decepticon there would have been more of an up stir then this.

"Report," he stated, not taking his hands off of the smaller mech, "any threats?"

Turn Point, a flier, shook his head, "I wouldn't call them a threat, at least not right now."

The shuttle was silent for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"We found two guards at the front, and they are both in stasis and from the look of it," the mech speaking threw a nervous glance in Sam's direction as if embarrassed. "There weren't any wounds, but their cod pieces were off. I can only conclude that it was the aftereffects of interfacing that they are out."

All the rest of mechs look at him with so-what expressions, it was not a big deal nor unheard of for 'Con's to slack on their appointed jobs. The flier threw a nervous glace back at the mech Skyfire was trying to talk with and everyone followed his gaze.

"Umm … and not with each other. There were light green paint scraps on both of them," added the mech as a slight whine came from his vocalizer, showing his repulsion and pity as he looked at the Decepticon before Skyfire; Sam's light green paint job glinting strangely in the dulled light for a moment as if to confess guilt.

Skyfire, suddenly, felt sick as well as he looked down at the mech before him, using his self-will not to pull away from the 'out of jail' free card. He had heard rumors of such things and it would answer why the small mech didn't have an insignia, but he had never met a mech that had claimed to have been one: a pleasurebot. The Autobot felt his spark rip at his SHU casing, yelling at him to do something, to save this suffering being. The white mech looked away from Sam's form when a dark green entity all but tumbled into the room in his hurry.

Hound's engine whined as he locked his gaze with Skyfire, "We have to get goin'. There's a guard comin' our way. If we don't get out of here now we may neve'h get out."

Sam knew the look of panic in the room right away. It was rare, but from time to time someone who wasn't assigned to guard duty would show up in the brig. It was easy to pull away from the large white being as he started in the direction of the entrance. He knew who it was: Mixmaster or another member of the gestalt's team by the footsteps. It was easy to dissuade any of them when a little physical contact was served up. Sam didn't even hear the whispers of the Autobot squad leader as he headed off to do his 'job'.

Skyfire was half tempted to go after the strange little mech and drag him out of the exit with them; they had to get out of here now, and he wasn't going to leave the little being to be victimized. Yet, before he could take a step forward, a voice echoed down the halls and First Aid had to slap his hand over Cliffjumper's mouth to keep him from crying out as he suddenly clung to the medic like a frightened sparkling. All the mechs took a step back; it was Mixmaster.

"Well-well, if it isn't the little love-bot. You-you watching your Autobots, again? You-you know Megs hates it when you're down here. You'll-you'll be punished."

Skyfire started shooing his men into corners so that they could suddenly jump the Decepticon, yet he nearly balked when he heard what the mech said next.

"Ohhh, I-I like that. You-you trying to get me to stay silent? Well-well, you're doing a good job little pleasurebot. Megs-Megs would be pissed if he k-knew I was going to interface his toy, but I-I won't tell if you won't tell. Tuh-tuh … like you can even talk."

Skyfire listened to the sounds of metal on metal as his men all headed for the forgotten exit in the storage room. He wanted to do something. He wanted to save the pleasurebot. Primus, he would have been satisfied knowing his name, but he promised that one day he'd save the nameless mech. Until then, he'd head to Earth and get some backup: there was no doubt in his mind that the rest of the Autobots would want to save such a sacrificing mech.

XXX

Paw07: This was originally supposed to be the prequel to a larger story but for now it's a one-shot. Poor Sam.


End file.
